


Say It Again When We're Sober

by brianmay_be



Category: Triple Frontier (2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Cuddling & Snuggling, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hoodies, Idiots in Love, Love Confessions, Recreational Drug Use, Santi and Frankie are roommates, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, and then lots of snuggling and watching deep space nine while high, basically frankie and reader confess their love, reader can have a little fingering (as a treat)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-19
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-17 06:33:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,613
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28844637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brianmay_be/pseuds/brianmay_be
Summary: He leaned closer to you, close enough that your noses touched. He chuckled softly. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time, kiddo. Pretty much since the day you grabbed the seat next to me in physics.”or;High off your asses and half-asleep watching Deep Space Nine, you and Frankie say some things you might not have said sober - but that doesn’t make them any less true.
Relationships: Francisco "Catfish" Morales & Reader, Francisco "Catfish" Morales/Reader, Francisco "Catfish" Morales/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 71





	Say It Again When We're Sober

**_One second. Omw._ **

You stuffed your phone in your pocket after reading his text and looked through the grating in the security door, your arms crossed over your chest against the cold. It seemed like Frankie was taking his sweet time coming from his dorm to let you into his building, and you shifted from one foot to another to try and generate a little heat.

He came through the inside door a minute later, grinning like an idiot when he saw you; you tried to ignore the butterflies you always felt when he smiled at you. He opened the security door for you and ushered you inside with a gallant wave.

“Sorry it took forever, Santi almost set the whole place on fire trying to make popcorn.”

You gave him an exasperated smile as you walked with him down the corridor towards his dorm. “Great. So it smells like burnt popcorn?”

He smirked. “Not for long.”

“Wait.” You grabbed the sleeve of his hoodie and pulled him to a stop.

He raised a brow. “What?”

“We’re not gonna - ” You looked around and were satisfied to see an empty hallway, but still lowered your voice. “ _\- smoke_ inside, are we?”

He looked amused at your worry. “Yeah, why not? I thought you wanted to _smoke_.”

You punched his shoulder and gave a begrudging smile when he laughed.

“Shut up,” you said. “And yeah, I do, but you’re gonna get in trouble doing it inside.”

He rolled his eyes as you started walking again. “Ugh, fine. We’ll go outside if you want. But it’s gonna be cold.”

“I’ll make you some hot soup or something.”

He snorted. “Yeah, let’s get high and have soup. That sounds great.”

He held the door open for you when you reached his dorm, and you were greeted by the smell of burnt popcorn, as promised.

“Honey, I’m home,” you called, looking around for the culprit. Santi’s head poked out from the kitchen and gave you a wide grin.

“Hi, sunshine,” he said. “Sorry about the popcorn. I didn’t burn all of it, though.”

You went through to the kitchen as Frankie went into his room for a minute, picking out a handful of popcorn from the not-burnt bowl. “And they said college wouldn’t make you any smarter, Santi.”

He smirked. “Yeah, well, you’re the one still hanging out at our apartment on a Saturday night when you could be doing literally anything else, so who’s the real dumbass?”

You smiled. “Still you. What are you doing with your Saturday night, if you’re too fancy to spend it here?”

He leaned against the counter. “I’m going to Will and Ben’s.”

“Ah,” you said, nodding sagely. “Mario Kart.”

“Hey, you’re welcome to join,” Santi said. “Unless you’d rather be _alone_ with Frankie.”

He waggled his eyebrows suggestively; you laughed and tried to downplay the heat rising in your cheeks.

“Yeah right,” you lied. “I’m here for his weed, not anything else.”

“Oh, are you guys smoking?” he asked. “Can I join?”

You shrugged. “Sure.”

“Only if you want to freeze to death,” Frankie called. A second later he came out of his room, holding another hoodie and the pencil case he kept his stash in.

“She’s making me take her outside to smoke,” Frankie told Santi.

Santi grimaced. “Yeah, no thanks.”

Frankie tossed you the extra hoodie he’d brought out, a soft blue thing you’d seen him wear a lot. You put it on and were practically swimming in it, but it was nice and warm and smelled like him.

“Thanks,” you said, sticking your hands in the front pocket and swinging back and forth on your heels.

He looked amused at your enjoyment of his hoodie. “You ready?”

“Lead on,” you said. You gently butted your head against Santi’s shoulder. “Bye, Santi. Hope you win in Mario Kart.”

“Thanks,” he said with a laugh. “I’ll leave the door unlocked for you.”

You and Frankie walked back out of the housing complex, catching each other up on your day. You’d been best friends since you arrived late to the first meeting of your physics class and had to take the only open seat, right next to Frankie. He’d walked you to your next class so you wouldn’t get lost, and from then on, you’d practically been inseparable.

Lots of people had thought you’d get together. Santi, Will, and Ben - Frankie’s best friends from freshman year and now your friends too - teased both of you mercilessly about it. You couldn’t lie and say you hadn’t thought about it - really, you spent a _lot_ of time thinking about it - but you were way too shy to make the first move. You figured Frankie would tell you if he felt that way about you, and you’d live with it if he didn’t. You loved him and you knew he loved you, even if it wasn’t _like that_ , and you were happy with it.

He took you down to the side of the outbuilding that technically served as the housing offices, but it didn’t see much traffic during the day and was abandoned at this hour.

“Ok?” he asked, and you knew that as much as he’d grumbled, he was happy to change his plans around to make sure you felt comfortable.

You looked around at the dark parking lot. “Yeah, it’s good.” It _was_ cold, like he’d warned you it would be, and you stood close to him as he fished a joint and a lighter out of his bag.

“Your pencil case must make you popular with all the ladies,” you teased.

He laughed. “Yeah. I haven’t really found a better place for it.”

He put the pencil case in the pocket of his hoodie and took a long, slow drag when the joint was lit. He held it out to you and you took it carefully.

“This isn’t the ‘hype you up’ kind, is it?” you asked. You’d had something before that made you all jittery and wild, and you hadn’t liked it that much.

He shook his head, bottling a cough in his chest. “Uh-uh,” he said, turning his head to exhale. “It’ll chill you out. You’re good.”

You took as long a drag as you could manage, giving a decent volley of coughs as you exhaled. You smoked with Frankie pretty frequently, all things considered, but you still weren’t very good at it. You liked being high, but you didn’t really like the process of getting high.

“Hit it again,” Frankie offered. “We both know you don’t ever get anything on the first try.”

That was probably true. You took another drag, the lit end flaring with color in the darkness, and managed it better with a little less choking.

You handed it back to Frankie. “Thanks for coming outside.”

“Sure,” he said with a smile. “Anything for you, kiddo.”

You stood close to each other for warmth, passing the joint back and forth until it was spent. Frankie killed it and you looked up at the stars, dim with the light pollution from campus but with certain constellations still recognizable.

Frankie cleared his throat. “So, I’m gonna say something, and it might be a little weird.”

You laughed and tipped your head back down to look at him. “That’s always a danger when you open your mouth, Frankie.”

His smile and the way he looked at you seemed so impossibly tender that you wondered if you were seeing it correctly.

“Ok, smart-ass,” he said, and his voice matched the way he looked, soft and affectionate. He looked a little nervous, and you wondered what he wanted to say that could be such a big deal. Usually Frankie was so straightforward, unafraid of speaking his mind - 

“I wanna kiss you.”

Your breath caught in your throat. 

“What?” you choked.

He laughed. “Goes down real smooth, huh? Well, forget I said it.”

“No, Frankie,” you said, trying to get your composure. You felt a swing of dizziness and grabbed onto his arm to steady yourself.

“Easy, tiger,” he said, putting his hand on your other arm. “You alright?”

“Yeah.” You looked up at him. Could you really have heard him right?

“Say that thing you just said.”

He smiled. “Which one? About wanting to kiss you?”

You tipped your face up almost unconsciously. “Yeah, that one.”

He gave a thoughtful hum. “Well...” He leaned closer to you, close enough that your noses touched. He chuckled softly. “I’ve wanted to kiss you for a long time, kiddo. Pretty much since the day you grabbed the seat next to me in physics.”

You could feel his warm breath on your skin. “That long?”

He hummed in agreement. “That long.”

You closed your eyes. He was so close - you felt his warmth all around you, protecting your from the cold.

“So kiss me,” you said softly, almost afraid to speak too loud and break the spell, to test this delicate balance you both hung in.

You didn’t know how long he waited - it could have been seconds or hours, you couldn’t tell - but then there was nothing but the feel of his mouth on yours, warm and soft and cautious.

He pulled back just enough to see your face.“How was that?”

You smiled. “Sweet,” you said, a little dazedly. Better than you had imagined. “Nice.”

He laughed. “Sweet and nice, huh?” He kissed you again, still as gentle as could be. “You’re sweet and nice.”

“You have a way with words, Frankie.”

“I’ve been told that a lot actually.”

He kissed you deeper then, still taking it slow, giving you time to get used to him. He let you take the lead, and when you opened your mouth, he responded in kind. You could have kissed him like that forever, lazy and easy and full of promise.

“Frankie,” you breathed.

He pulled back a little. “Hm? You ok?”

You pressed closer to him to close the distance; his cautiousness was sweet but unnecessary, and you wanted more of him.

“I want...” But you couldn’t say it, were too embarrassed all of a sudden, your face warming even in the cold air. Not even getting high could erase your bashfulness altogether, or make you brave enough to ask your best friend for - well, _more_. 

The hand that had been holding onto your arm released you, only to find its way to your waist.

“You want...” he prompted, giving you a few feather-light kisses to your cheeks and nose. “What do you want, pretty girl?”

Your breath caught when he called you that, and you wondered if he’d do it again if you asked.

“Call me that again,” you said.

You felt his smile against your cheek. “Tell me what you want, pretty girl,” he murmured. “‘S just me. You don’t have to be shy.”

You closed your eyes and leaned into him, your best friend, the person you felt safest with. 

“Touch me, please.”

“Okay,” he said against your jaw. He moved to kiss you, steering you gently back a few steps until you were against the wall, bracketed by his arms. You let your hands drift over his chest, fingers glancing over the little bit of collarbone exposed by the loose collar of his hoodie. 

“Tell me if you want me to stop, ok?” he said. You nodded, and his hand moved from your waist to your breast, kneading gently. You could feel the warmth of his hand even though the hoodie, and you sighed as he kissed you deeper.

He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, moving his thigh between your legs; you were surprised by the rush of warmth that went through your whole body. You didn’t know if he would have noticed, but you gasped a little, and you could feel his smile.

“What?” he asked, amused and kind.

“Just... surprised me a little.”

He nosed against your jaw. “Good surprise?”

You nodded. “You can...” Again, you drifted off, embarrassed. He kissed you again.

“I want to do whatever you want to do,” he said easily. “Whatever you’re comfortable with. All you have to do is tell me.”

Your cheeks felt impossibly hot against the cold air, and you leaned your head against his.

“You can...” you started again. You pressed a kiss to the corner of his mouth. “You can - I want you to - ”

You put your hand over his and moved it down, slowly, giving him time to pull away. Even though he’d said he was ok with whatever you wanted, it was still so early, and you wanted to go slow, for both of your sakes. He got your meaning and started fumbling with the button on your jeans.

“Tell me what you want, pretty girl,” he reminded you again, but there was only affection in his voice, and you knew he would patiently remind you as many times as you needed. Frankie knew you, knew how you always got so tripped up trying to say what you meant, what you wanted - he knew you and cared for you like you needed to be cared for.

You blushed and hid your face against his shoulder. “Want you to... finger me. Please.”

A thrill rushed through his body at that, a wave of desire and protectiveness that you could feel under your hands as you held onto him. He moved closer to you, one hand leaning against the brick wall behind you, the other slipping under the waistband of your jeans.

“You can tell me to stop any time,” he said. “Just say the word.”

“Okay,” you agreed, already a little breathless at his warmth so close to you.

He moved his hand slowly, staying over your underwear; he gently worked his way over your heat, pressing just enough to make you sigh against his mouth. God, his hand was so big, and his fingers were so gentle - it was heady, with his fingers rubbing slow circles and his tongue in your mouth. You pressed against him, wanting more, wanting _him_. 

He pulled away and you wondered if you’d done something wrong, tried to tamp down the sting of disappointment and embarrassment as you thought he may have reconsidered it all. Before you could say anything, stutter out an apology, he gave you a quick, reassuring kiss.

“It’s alright,” he said. “Just wanted to warm my hand up a little for you.”

He cupped his hands over his mouth and warmed them, rubbing them together; he reached for your hands and blew gently on them too.

“Figured your hands were cold too,” he said sweetly, and kissed your knuckles. You gave him a wobbly smile and let him hold your hands for a moment.

“You’re so beautiful,” he said, with an innocence and sincerity that made you weak in the knees. 

You leaned close to kiss him, and he obliged you. You draped your arms around his neck and tucked your hands under his hood to keep them warm as he went back to the job at hand.

His fingers were a little warmer, but they were still a shock as he slipped into your underwear and traced over your heat. Your breath hitched from the first touch, and he gave a pleased hum as he started to circle your clit.

“Frankie,” you sighed, letting your body move naturally against him. 

“Feels ok?” he asked gently. 

“Y-yeah,” you breathed. He moved down and teased at your entrance; you bunched the fabric of his hoodie in your grip.

“Easy does it, pretty girl,” he said, nipping at your bottom lip. “Gonna take it nice and slow.”

True to his word, he slowly worked a finger into you, his thumb still rubbing your clit. You let out a shaky breath that gave way to a quiet moan, and you immediately felt yourself blush.

“Sorry,” you said.

He chuckled. “That’s ok. Sounded real pretty, baby.”

He made a come-hither motion with his finger, and you moaned again, a little less quietly. You buried your face in his neck, your cheeks burning; he smiled and kissed you, and you felt hot all over knowing he liked the sounds you made.

“Please, Frankie,” you said, kissing his neck. His thumb on your clit was driving you crazy; your legs started to shake and you leaned on him to steady yourself. “Please.”

He knew what you meant, and he added another finger, setting a steady pace. He didn’t seem in any mood to rush, and you let him draw you out with his skillful, patient touch. 

“Fuck,” you breathed quietly, tangling your fingers in his curls. You could feel your orgasm cresting like a wave between your hips, a low fire turned into a roaring flame with Frankie’s fingers inside you and his mouth on yours. You gasped and let out a sort of mewl as he gave your clit more attention, crumpling his hoodie in your fists.

“Frankie,” you almost whined. 

He kissed your collarbone. “Tell me, pretty girl.”

Your breath came in short pants. “Gonna cum, Frankie.”

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice low. “Cum for me, baby.”

His praise tipped you over the edge and you came on his fingers, riding out your orgasm as he drew it out as long as he could for you. You leaned your head back against the wall and he kissed your neck, murmuring words of praise.

“So beautiful,” he said against your skin. “What a good girl for me.”

When you came down from your high - well, one of them - blissed out and a little overstimulated in the best way, you looked up at him and gave him a dreamy smile.

“Thank you,” you said unsteadily. You were half aware that you were leaning heavily against him as your legs still shook, but he didn’t seem to mind.

He chuckled. “No problem, baby. My pleasure.”

You rested your head against his shoulder, feeling a little dazed as the endorphins seemed to make the weed start to hit more noticeably. You were content and warm, feeling more comfortable and safe than you had in a long time.

“You ok?” he asked. He ran a soothing hand up and down your back.

You hummed in agreement. “A little cold.”

“Yeah, it is a little cold out here,” he agreed. “Why don’t we go back to my place and get warmed up?”

“At least buy me a drink first,” you said, and he laughed.

“Come on, trouble.” He took your hand in his; you tucked yourself close to him and leaned against his arm as you walked back to his dorm.

Santi was still out when you got back, but he’d lit the one candle he kept for when girls came around, and the apartment smelled comfortingly like laundry, or some variant of a “soft cotton” smell. You kicked off your shoes and curled up on Frankie’s bed.

He leaned down and gave you a quick kiss. “Be right back.”

You were content to lay on the bed and doze a little; you did get a little in your head when you thought Frankie had been gone for a long time, but he came back just before you started getting panicky, his laptop and a bowl of popcorn in hand.

“You two and your popcorn,” you said, moving over to make room for him on the bed.

He smiled. “Yeah, but I didn’t burn it, because I’m not an idiot.” He set his laptop on his thigh and pulled up Netflix. “Any requests?”

You shook your head, cuddling close to him. “Whatever you want.”

He put on _Deep Space Nine_ , one of his guilty pleasure shows, and put his arm over your shoulders.

Between the two of you, the popcorn bowl was quickly empty, and you you spent the remainder of the episode kissing and going through every dumb question you had about Star Trek. Your attention got hooked during one scene with a monastery and a weird prophecy-orb that gave people sex visions - or at least that’s what you gathered, as you were very tired and still pretty high. You looked over at Frankie to confirm that’s what had just happened, but stopped before you asked when you saw him.

He was asleep, his head at a bit of an uncomfortable angle, his arm still around you as he snored gently. You couldn’t help a smile as you studied his face, all soft and pretty and restful.

You couldn’t help the words that came out of your mouth, either, tumbling out before you could stop them.

“I love you.”

 _Oh, boy_. Your pulse jumped as if you’d just yelled it from the rooftops instead of whispering it to him while he slept, and you watched his face for any kind of reaction. You didn’t know whether it had been a good idea to say it or not, but you had, and you found it was the easiest thing in the world. 

You wanted to say it again.

He shifted a little, tucking you closer to him; you held your breath, waiting to see if he had woken or was just moving closer in his sleep.

“Lay down,” he murmured. You did as he said, laying your head on his chest, tucking your hand in the pocket of his hoodie. He was warm and solid and safe, and you relaxed completely against him.

“I love you, Frankie,” you said again, even softer.

He gave a sleepy grunt. 

“Heard you... the first time,” he mumbled, still mostly asleep. “Love you, baby. Let’s... say it again when we’re sober, ‘kay?”

“Okay,” you agreed. You smiled and snuggled close to him, already feeling like you were home.

**Author's Note:**

> as always, come see me on my tumblr, @javi-djarins ♡


End file.
